


If only they knew…

by justholdinghands



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justholdinghands/pseuds/justholdinghands
Summary: The day before Chicago Wizard World





	1. Chapter 1

She’d taken another flight, landed a few hours before him and texted him she was in her hotel room, with a blush emoji that said it all. He’d almost run from the plane to the exit of the airport, caught a cab in a rush and checked in at their hotel. His room is huge, with an amazing view of Chicago, king size bed, massive bathtub, it smells like flowers, he doesn’t care. He’s not gonna use it. They always take hers, for no reason, it’s just the way it is. He keeps up the appearances for the hotel staff, but once the guy who carries his suitcase is gone with a nice tip, he lets a few shirts in the drawers, messes the bed, and leaves, his luggage rolling behind him.

It’s been two long weeks since he’d seen her. He can’t stand spending one more second without breathing the same air as her. In a few second, he’ll hold her, smell her, kiss her, take her. 301…302…303… 304. There it is, room 305. She should be behind the door, waiting for him.

He has plans for tonight. He wants to take her out, go dinner in a nice place downtown. He’ll pull the chair for her, and kiss her shoulder, on the particular spot that makes her shiver every time. She’ll discreetly kick off her shoes under the table and run her foot on his leg, maybe slip her toes under his pants, and he’ll take her hand and get lost in the blue of her eyes. She’ll order a dessert, probably a chocolate cake, but she won’t finish it. He will. Then they’ll be back here, and he will make love to her all night. But before that, he needs to feel her hands on his skin, her breath on his neck, her lips on his mouth, her tongue on his cock. His dick inside her. And he needs it now. He’s already half-hard just at this thought, when he knocks at the door.

He hears footsteps behind the door, and the handle turns.

“Hi, David!” she says, her voice oddly high-pitched. She winks and shakes her head awkwardly. She’s beautiful, even in her “I-had-a-8-hours-flight-today-and-I-don’t-give-a-fuck.” Her hair is tight in a messy ponytail, she has her glasses on, and wears a lousy white dress and tan wedges. No makeup, no perfume, but she looks flawless and smells delicious. If she was not doing this weird thing with her eyes, he would lift her and take her right here against the wall.

“Hi… Gillian?” he answers, looking over her shoulder.

Mitch. Fuck. What is he doing here? She mouths a “Sorry” as he closes the door behind him, frowning his brows.

“There he is! Duchovny!” Mitch screams, opening his arms for a welcoming hug. “Why are you carrying your suitcase, dude?”

Mitch knows. He does for years, but they’d never told him anything. It’s worse than that. He knows that they know that he knows. Yet, no one never talks about it. They prefer to tease each other, with continuous embarrassing innuendos. One day, they will have to tell him. They will have to tell everyone, actually. But that day is not today.

“Huh… My room’s… huh… not ready yet. What a scandal, huh. Five stars, my ass!” he lies and quickly changes the subject. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to say Hi! and pick up Gillian. Everyone’s waiting for us at the restaurant.”

Oh, god, he has forgotten about the dinner with their teams and the Comic Con’s staff. Maybe no one will notice their absence if they don’t go?

“Yeah…” he says hesitantly, looking at Gillian for help. “Well, maybe Gillian’s tired, you know… jetlag and everything? Aren’t you, Gill?”

“Nah! She’s fine!” Mitch interrupts Gillian before she can even answer. “She just told me she slept the whole flight. Come on! Let’s go. I’m starving!”

-

Everyone is already around the table in the cozy restaurant of the hotel. Deep down, he’s thrilled and beyond happy to be with her again, but his exterior looks angry and frustrated. He’s known to be moody and kind of morose sometimes, but today is nothing like that. He just knows exactly how to behave when he doesn’t want anybody to talk to him, and that’s what he does now. His jaw is clenched, his lips pursed, and he has his sunglasses on, allowing him to see without being seen and to avoid eye contact with everyone. He wants to be forgotten, and stay in his own bubble where only Gillian is allowed to come in, and he hopes this dinner won’t last too long.

“You okay?” Gillian whispers, discreetly turning her head to face him.

He nods with a slight smile and puts his hand on her knee, under the table.

“I missed you,” he whispers back, squeezing her bare-knee.

Her dress is pulled up just above her knees, her napkin resting on her thighs to hide the piece of flesh that could be seen. Her skin is soft and warm under his touch, and he lets escape a heavy sigh of frustration and boredom. He would give everything he has to be anywhere else with her. Even the bathroom of this restaurant would do the job. But they can’t do that. Not in front of all these people, even if no one really pays attention to them. He’s been so cold and unfriendly since they arrived, that people seem almost afraid to talk to him. That’s exactly what he wants, Gillian can socialize for the both of them. They have a functional “good cop, bad cop” routine working for years, and both of them are pretty happy with the role they have. He knows she will apologize for his behavior later, he doesn’t care, right now, she’s the only one he feels like being kind with. His thumb caresses the side of her knee while his fingers sink into her flesh.

She nods at his confession, staring at his lips. He knows she’d kiss him now if she could. He craves for her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth, her pussy around his cock while she’d ride him merciless, her perfect tits jumping up and down while she’d scream his name and climax on his lap, gushing her juices on his dick… Now he’s frustrated, bored and hard. Fine. And when exactly did his hand find itself so high on her inner-thigh?

She’s back in the conversation, like nothing is happening, but the blush on her earlobe, the little veins on her neck, the goosebumps under his palm, and the heat between her thighs betrays her. She slightly opens her legs wider, and sits closer to the table, bringing her chair nearer to the edge to hide her crotch under the tablecloth. This is definitely an invitation, and he is hesitant to accept it. They no longer are these young thirsty and wild people who couldn’t behave themselves and would fuck everywhere, not caring about being heard or seen. If they get caught, this could have irrevocable consequences. But on the other hand, she’s hot and wet, he can feel it with his fingertips, and seeing the way her chest heavily lifts with each of her breath, she’s aroused. Her nipples poke through her dress and her hairs rise on her arms. She can blame a too strong air conditioner for this. Except that she isn’t cold, she’s way too hot, but he’s the only one to know it. To feel it.

His hand travels deeper between her thighs, very slowly, his fingertips blindly waiting to make contact with her panties. Her fists tighten around her cutlery when the tip of his middle finger brushes her clit. God, she’s soaked. He delicately caresses her folds up and down over the soft cotton of her underwear. If only this guy just in front of him who stares at her like she was the Seventh Wonder of the World, knew that he has his hand on her pussy right now… If only he knew how wet she is for him. But he will never know because she’s too good at it. It amuses him to watch her keep talking, clearing her throat in the middle of a sentence when he touches her clit, drinking more water than necessary, avoiding to look in his direction. For all those years, he’d forgotten how fun and exciting sex in public could be.

Behind his sunglasses, he checks if anyone looks in his direction, but still no one pays attention to him. Full of confidence, he slips his forefinger under the band of her panties, tracing the edge of them. She shifts in her chair, replaces her napkin on her lap discreetly, and drinks another glass of water in one big sip. He refrains a chuckle. He’s both amused and amazed at her cool exterior, when she’s actually burning inside. If it was her hand on his dick right now, he would have growled and moaned, no matter how many people were watching him.

He waits for her to finish her drink. He doesn’t want her to spill fresh water all over her. First, it would be embarrassing, and then her dress is white, and everybody would see her hard dark nipples through it, and he’d rather keep this sight just for him. They might be in public, it doesn’t mean he wants to share. She’s his, and the slight smell of her arousal coming up to his nostrils proves it. Between all the scents around the table right now, the food, the cheap perfume of the lady next to him, the heavy after-shave of this guy on the other side of the table, the candles, he still can discern the delicious and characteristic smell of her pussy. This musky and heavy scent that makes him want to taste her and swallow her whole.

She takes her fork back in her hand, and he assaults her clit. She whispers an inaudible “Oh god,” and closes her eyes for a second, before taking a bite of her meal. He circles, tickles, pinches, staring at her in the corner of his eyes. Her cheeks have taken some nice colors, and her movements start to be difficult. She has given up cutting her meat, unable to use both of her hands now. It takes longer to bring her fork at her mouth, and her tongue lingers on the metal like these pastas were the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. She uses her free hand to clean invisible crumbs on her chest, brushing her nipples to release some pressure. 

She’s dripping wet on his hand, and shifts again. Her stomach is almost touching the edge of the table, and she lays back on her chair, slightly lifting her ass to give him a better access. Another invitation. 

He pauses for a second, cupping her pussy and using his free hand to take a sip of his wine. He needs a second to recompose himself. He’s sweating, and breathing heavily. The head of his dick is painfully demanding to get out his thick jeans. For a second, he thinks about freeing him, and wrapping her little hand around it. That’s exactly what he needs now. The kind of hand job that only she can give him. The one that can make him come in two minutes, especially when she does this thing, swirling his dick between her two palms. Amazing how she can reduce him to an exhibitionist pervert sometimes, he thinks and refrains another chuckle, leaving his cock where it is.

“So, Gillian, what do you think about Chicago? Have you ever been here, I know you live in London…” the guy with the heart-eyes asks.

Oh, god! David thinks. She was born here, she lived here, she has family here. Read some of her press, you idiot! It’s an easy answer for her, though. She just has to tell the same story she’s used to serve journalists every single day of her life for twenty five years, so why not making it a little bit harder for her? A wry smile is drawn on his face as he enters his middle finger inside her without warning. She’s so wet and aroused that he doesn’t meet any resistance and pushes it as deep as his position allows him to, his forefinger strongly resting on her clit. She gasps and hits the table with the bottom of her knife, making the guy jump with surprise. She looks upset and ready to slap him, with her little fist clenched like this, and he looks like he doesn’t know what he said to have offended her.

“I… Yeah… I… I was born here.” she stuttered.

“Oh! Great! Did you live here, or did you move to London right away?”

“I lived here.” she said sharply.

“Okay. Then, welcome back!” The guy looks worried and a bit disappointed. She was a sweetheart at the beginning of her dinner, answering every question, having a nice conversation, and she suddenly turns in a Hollywood diva who doesn’t want to talk. If only they knew…

“Thank you.” she gasps awkwardly.

He’s so proud of himself for making her lose it. She’s stayed in control all the time his hand was between her thighs, but now his finger is inside her, and he keeps pushing on clit with every move. She had lowered her head, focusing on her meal, and avoiding to look at anyone. It’s her turn to want to be forgotten now. Her smell has intensified, and he’s sure Mitch, sitting next to her can smell it too. Joke’s on him, he feels like Mitch kind of always wanted to be the one making her smell like that. But his amusement stops when he feels her muscles clench around his finger. Oh god, no! She’s not going to come right here? He’d watched her come countless times. He knows her orgasm-face by heart. She can’t be more beautiful and gorgeous than when she comes, but she’s also noisy and loud, and her whole body convulses, and he’d like to keep this sight just for him.

He tries to catch her gaze, but she’s still avoiding his eyes, focusing on her plate. He should stop before she embarrasses herself. But she didn’t even try to make him stop since he’s started. And if he does stop now, and lets her hang, she could kill him later. She might be in control, she knows what she’s doing, it’s not the first time she would have to come in silence with him. They both have kids, and the walls of these trailers are really thin… He inserts another finger inside her and she tosses her head back, staring at the ceiling for a second, before returning to her meal. Hopefully, no one noticed that. She grips at the edge of the table as he pumps his fingers into her, as hard as possible, trying to keep his arm still, not wanting to make some odd movements that could draw the attention on him. His wrist is frantic under the table, his palm hitting her clit on every way up. No one can ignore the smell of her pussy now, and if he listens carefully, he can even hear the wet sound of his fingers. Her muscles clench again and she finally turns her head towards him, searching for his eyes behind his sunglasses.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t change the expression on his face, but holds her gaze. This is the kind of moment that lasts a few seconds when you feel like it has lasted hours. The restaurant doesn’t exist anymore, there’s no Mitch, no William, no one else around them. No other sound than her inaudible moans, and her soaked pussy taking his fingers, thrust after thrust. They’re alone for a second, and he’s finally lost in the shiny blue of her eyes. Her face is red, she bites the side of her bottom lip and she suddenly closes her eyes and purses her lips as her inner muscles contract hard around his fingers, trapping them inside her. Just a heavy sigh escapes her throat as she comes, and slowly allow the world to reappear around their own little bubble.

“I hate you!” she mouths with a smile and turns her face away from him.

He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on her napping with a satisfied grin, and excuses himself before he leaves. No way he can stay around this table with an erection of this size painfully hidden in his jeans.


	2. Chapter 2

The dinner was exquisite, and she’s not thinking about the food. She doesn’t even recall what she ate, but the sensation of his fingers inside her while she was trying to have a conversation in the middle of all these people is not something she can forget. His jaw is still clenched in the elevator, he looks angry, and if she didn’t know him by heart, she wouldn’t dare to talk to him right now. But he’s not angry, and she knows it. He just wants this evening to be over, Mitch to go back to his room, and Gillian’s team to give them some privacy. So does she. The elevator is tiny, and full of people she knows and doesn’t know, yet, she can distinguish his own scent mixed with his perfume and after-shave. This characteristic scent that makes her want to grab his head and bite at his bottom lip right now. She wanted to kiss him the second she saw him appear at her door, but didn’t have a single opportunity, which, despite their little foreplay during the dinner, is very frustrating. She craves for his lips on hers, his hot breath on her neck and this bottom lip…

Finally, the elevator stops at Mitch’s floor, and he leaves them with a quick goodbye, before David pushes the button frantically. She raises a slight smile in appreciation of his hurry to finally be alone with her, and the silence settles again in the tiny room. There’s still a few people around them, and she tries to catch his gaze, but he impatiently stares at the floor numbers scrolling on the little screen, while he slightly, almost imperceptibly moves his arm to brush her wrist with his little finger. This is nothing, just a slight brush, and she feels ridiculous that just a little thing like that can both make her heart jump and melt. That’s the only way he’d found to tell her everything’s okay, he loves her, and he’ll show her how much in a few minutes. All of that in this little, imperceptible touch. She silently nods, letting him know that she got the message.

Their floor, finally. She sighs her relief as soon as the elevator closes behind them, and his face suddenly lits. It’s not their room yet, just the hallway, but for the first time, they’re finally alone, without indiscreet eyes all around them. Knowing what awaits them tomorrow, they both know they should cherish every single moment of peace and quiet, before the storm of fans surrounding them every minute.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling at her hand to draw her in his arms.

She softly lands on his hard chest and leans upward to finally plant a chaste and lingering kiss on his lips, her hands cupping his now relaxed jaw.

Without leaving his hand, she quickly walks in the hallway, finally joining her door.

“Someone’s in a hurry?” he teases behind her, as she delves in her purse to find the key-card. He wraps one hand around her waist, resting it flat on her stomach while his other hand squeezes her ass and he slightly bites at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, making her knees weaken, and her nipples ache.

“Oh, shut up!” she chuckles, finally finding the desired object.

As soon as the door closes behind them, she kicks off her wedges, and lifts his shirt over his head in a frantic move, making his Ray-Ban fly and crash on the floor.

“Gill!” he protests, but her hands are already working on his belt, not leaving him the opportunity to pick them up.

“They’re not broken,” she says, removing his belt skillfully. “And I missed your eyes.”

“Just my eyes?” he teases, and grabs her wrists as she was already trying to take off his jeans. “Slow down, we have all night, baby.”

“How am I supposed to slow down, when you made me come so hard in front of all these people?” she says, replacing her hands on his fly.

She had refrained her orgasm earlier, not to scream or do something embarrassing, and it just left her more wet and aroused that she was before, so she’s decided to get a real release this time, without having to pretend, without having to hold back. And the sooner, the better.

“Lay down,” he says, gently pushing her on the bed behind her. “I’m gonna make you come harder, and it’ll just be me and you now.”

“Bummer,” she teases with a grin, and obeys, softly falling on the bed, her eyes locked with his. She bites her bottom lip in the sexiest way as she watches him approach, looking like a hot half-naked predator. His muscles are tensed, his mouth opened, his eyes dark, there’s one button missing on his pants, and his bulge says everything about the state of his arousal.

“You liked it? Having people watching you?” His voice is raspy. He stands between her legs, unbuttoning his jeans slowly. She hums her approval, and raises on her elbows to observe him. “All these eyes watching you while you’re being fucked. Tell me, Gillian. You liked it?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, too aroused to speak with a normal voice now. His pants fall on the floor, and so do his boxers, exposing his hardness at her sight.

“Take it off,” he orders, pointing at her dress, and she obeys, unable to think or argue or protest. He’s naked in front of her, her eyes are focused on his dick as hard as a rock. She wants to stroke him, feel the soft skin of his long and thick cock in her palms, she wants to take him in her mouth, taste and devour him until she reduces him to beg her to stop. It would be a sweet revenge for bossing her around like that, but she’s dripping wet, her pussy already contracts like a lament of emptiness. She needs him inside her. Now. Her dress joins his clothes on the floor, and he doesn’t need to ask her to take off her soaked panties. They land on his chest, and he catches them, brings them to his face and takes a deep breath of their scent. Her whole body aches for his touch. She can see her throbbing clit poking through her soft pubic hair. It’s too much, she can’t help it, and brings her middle finger on it, just to release the pressure.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks, adding a second finger to circle her clit, under his amazed gaze.

“What do you want? Tell me.” His eyes follow the movements of her fingers, and she takes the opportunity to insert them inside her, and starts to pump, very slowly. She lowers her gaze from his eyes to his cock, licking her upper lip.

“I want to feel you inside me, David.”

He smiles, as she opens her legs wider, allowing him to kneel between them, and he places his cock at her entrance. He slowly enters the tip of it, and quickly removes it, doing it again and again. It’s so good and frustrating at the same time, she fights the urge to grab him and push him inside her for good. He knows that it’s what she needs, he just wants her to ask again, to beg. She hates that. Or she loves it. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that he’s going to kill her if he keeps not fucking her.

“Dave…”

“God, you’re so wet.” He slides the lengths of his cock all over her pussy, his head pushing hard on her clit, and his balls slightly brushing her entrance and her anus. She moans when he does it a second time, hitting the right spot on the roots of her clit. “And so hot.”

She watches him, strongly wrapping his fingers around his dick, and sighs in anticipation of her imminent release. But instead of pushing it inside her, he slowly lifts his member and slaps it flat on her pussy, strongly hitting her demanding clit. The sensation is so strong and unexpected that her elbows weaken, no longer able to support her own weight.

“Oh, God!” she screams when he does it again, harder, and enters the tip of his cock inside her, removes it and slaps her pussy again. 

“I missed making you scream.” He slides his dick onto her again, slowly, and uses the tip to tap on her clit, fast and hard.

Her back arches, and her inner-muscles contract. She could come just like that, if he doesn’t stop to hit the right spot. But just when she feels herself on the edge, he pushes his dick inside her, finally filling her, until he’s fully inside her.

When they haven’t been together for days, or weeks, or sometimes months, there’s always this little moment when they need to reconnect. Sometimes, it happens with just a kiss, or a look, a touch or a gentle word. Sometimes, like right now, it happens once they’re literally linked to each other. She accommodates to his size again, and he takes his time to appreciate her soft wetness, moving slowly and carefully inside her, their eyes lock with each other’s. He almost completely pulls out of her, and slowly pushes back inside her. It feels like heaven. She feels every inch of him moving inside her, in her pussy, in her belly, the sensation is so strong that it goes right to her chest, making her nipples ache, and sending sparks to her brain. She can’t think, she can’t talk, she can’t breathe, she can’t even keep her eyes open. Only the sound of their heavy breathing fills the room, with the scent of their sex. If she focuses hard enough, she can feel his veins pulsing against her walls. It’s been seconds, minutes, hours. He thrusts with the same rhythm, slowly, carefully, stopping at the edge of her cervix, pulling out, and pushing in again.

“You’re okay?” he asks after a while.

“God, yeah, you feel so good.” she sighs, and open her eyes. “I missed you.” she says, pulling at his arms to draw him closer.

He bends down, until his lips can reach hers, and his tongue slips in her mouth, chasing hers. That’s only now that she realizes they haven’t kissed properly yet. She missed this, his breath, his taste, the way he softly bites at her lips and caresses her tongue with his. Her fingers run in his hair, pulling him closer, and she crosses her ankles on his ass, pushing him deeper inside her.

“Fuck me, David.” she almost begs, breaking the kiss. “Fuck me for real, now.”

His mouth travels from her lips to her cheek, jawline, neck, ear. Breathing, licking, nibbling. His free hand dips in the flesh of her thigh. His body above hers, muscular and heavy. Inside her, still and hard.

“How?” she hears him whisper in her ear, so low it’s barely audible. But she knows he’d said it, and she knows what he wants to hear.

“Hard. Fuck me hard, David.” she answers in the same whisper in her his ear, before pulling his earlobe between her teeth.

He bites hard at her collarbone, and without warning, moves his hips to gather upward momentum before he throws a sudden hard thrust inside her, making her cry out. He was motionless inside her for a few seconds before that, she wasn’t expecting this. The delightful sensation between pain and ultimate pleasure sends jolts in her brain, and makes her nails scratch his forearms.

“Like that?” His face still buried in the crook of her neck.

“Yeah…” He does it again. Harder. His balls strongly hit the edge of her anus. “Oh! Fuck!” she cries out, once again surprised by the intensity of the sensation. That’s her pussy he’s fucking, but she can feel his cock from the tip of her toes to the end of her hair. It feels like confusing ecstasy. Ecstasy, because he feels amazing. Confusing because she wants it to last, but she feels like she could come right away if he does it again, and she could kill right now him if he stops doing it. He thrusts inside her again, and again, and again. Harder, faster, fucking her mercilessly. The soft flesh of her neck is trapped between his teeth. It should hurt. It probably does, but she doesn’t care. It’ll leave marks for days, she doesn’t care either. Not now. Not when the head of his cock rubs against her upper wall as he moves inside her. Her back arches and her toes curl when he finds the small hill of her G-spot.

“Yeah, right there. Right there!” She grips at his hips to stand him still where all the nerves of her body seem to converge. This is too much and not enough at the same time. So confusing again. She feels her orgasm build, she wants to pee, she wants him to stop, she wants him to fuck her harder, she doesn’t know what to do. She’s unable to make a constructed sentence anyway. His face has left her neck. She barely can keep her eyes open, but she knows he’s watching her, observing her reactions as he rubs the head of his cock on the right spot, slowly at first, then faster, and faster.

It’s here. Right now. In her groin, in her brain, everywhere. Ready to explode. She’s going to come so hard. She always can feel the intensity of her orgasm before it happens. He continues his motions, his soft pubic hair brushing her throbbing clit as she slightly lifts her hips to find the right angle, so his dick doesn’t rub against her spot anymore, it presses on it, flicks on it. He pushes against her upper wall with every thrust, and after a few seconds, she loses it. For a fraction of a second, she can’t feel anything anymore. No sounds, no touch, nothing. The little death, literally. But all of a sudden, everything comes back to her in a blowout of sensations, and she climaxes around him. The first contraction of her muscles is so intense, it traps his cock inside her, making them cry out in unison, and when she releases him, it goes with a flow of unexpected liquid gushing out of her in squirts she can’t control. He pulls out of her quickly, staring at her soaked glowing pussy with surprise. Finally opening her eyes, and looking into his, she can’t say if he’s scared or aroused. Both, maybe?

“Oh my god, David! I’m sorry!” she says without thinking, and actually without meaning it. It was the most amazing sensation she’d ever felt, and she regrets nothing, especially because it happened with him, the one she loves. The one who loves her, respects her, admires her. The only one she can really be herself with, without feeling judged, without shame, without fear.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” he says, bending over to tenderly capture her lips between his. “You’re amazing, baby. You’re so sexy, you drive me crazy.”

She loses herself into his kiss, barely feeling the drenched mattress under her ass. As her hands run in his soft hair, and his tongue maps the inside of her cheeks, she feels the endorphins gaining her, but she knows she’s not going to sleep in this mess. That’s only now she realizes his cock is pressed against her entrance, waiting for her permission to go further.

“You didn’t make it with me?” she asks, breaking their kiss. He shakes his head no, with a childish smile, and she feels him take his dick in his hand between her thighs, adjusting the angle. “Wait,” she says softly, and notices the disappointment in the dark color of arousal in his dilated pupils. “Lay on your back,” she orders, turning them around.

“Oh! Wet spot’s bigger than what I’m used to.” he teases with a grin on his face. She playfully slaps his shoulder, making him chuckle as she goes down on him, her lips leaving wet kisses on his chest, stomach, groin, and finally just under the head of his dick. “Oh god, Gill… Wait.” He orders, just a second before she takes him in her mouth. She stops, her mouth wide open before his hardness. He takes a moment to look into her eyes, posing, cupping her face. “I love you.” he says tenderly, before slightly pushing her head down.

She smiles around his dick, swirling her tongue on his head. The familiar taste of herself and his precum are mixed with something new, stronger, a bit sour. Her juices are everywhere on his length, and she wipes them off with her tongue, running it along his pulsing veins. He can’t help the little jolt of his hips when she sucks his head, swallowing him as deep as possible, before she releases him to do it again. Harder. One of her hands gently strokes his base, applying a strong pressure, when her other hand cups his balls, massaging them. With the sounds he makes, she knows he’s close. Her hand strokes him faster, and her mouth sucks him harder. She hears him calling her, and God in a loud growl. He’s thrusting in her mouth now, gently, she knows he tries to stay as still as possible, but he just can’t help it. His hands cup the back her head, applying a soft pressure. He just said something like “close”, or “come”, she isn’t sure. It doesn’t matter, she can feel him pulse fast on her tongue now, a taste of salt spreads in her mouth. She leaves his balls, and her middle finger comes to push against his anus, softly circling the edge of it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, and his hands are heavier on the back of her head. “Come on,” he almost begs.

She pushes her knuckle inside him, deep enough to make him scream his orgasm and spill his cum in her mouth. God’s name escapes his agnostic mouth once again, before she releases him and withdraws her finger.

“I’m sorry, but something needs to change between us.” he states, playfully, after a few seconds to catch his breath. She looks at him, a bit worried, climbing on his body to rest her chin on his chest, and hums in questioning. “For once, we’re gonna need to spend the night in *my* room.” he teases, pointing at the soaked mattress.

-

The cool shower felt good on their slick body, and they’re now ready to go to bed. His room is the exact same as hers, yet she feels a bit lost. She has to re-settle all her products in his bathroom, invading his space shamelessly.

“You know we’re leaving in two days, right?” he teases, sit on the edge of the bathtub, observing her little bedtime ritual.

“Ha. Ha.” she deadpans and applies several creams on her face. One for her eyes, one for her neck, one for her lips. “You’re ready for tomorrow?” she asks, squeezing the toothpaste on her electric toothbrush. “It’s been three years since we’ve done that.” she states, and pushes on the power button.

He stays silent for a few second, lulled by the soft snore of her toothbrush. “I know my lessons,” he finally says when she stops her motions. “No touching, no gazing. Five emails a years, I haven’t seen you since… What? January?”

“May!” she exclaims, before she spits into the sink. “Streetcar!”

“Oh yeah! That one was official, right?”

“Yes! And you loved it, and I was amazing.” she winks at him, starting to brush her hair.

“Of course I did! Because my beautiful girlfriend was in it, and she’s the greatest actress I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah… Well… Thank you, but don’t say that.” she smiles, shifting her head in front of the mirror. She pulls her hair behind her ear to discover a massive hickey on the side of her neck.

“That’s gonna be blue tomorrow.” he says, with a proud smile.

“Did you do that on purpose?” She frowns her eyebrows, immediately erasing his smile. She remembers now. His teeth gripping at her flesh while she was losing herself in the sensation of him moving inside her. Somehow, she knew it would leave a mark. She wasn’t expecting such a huge one. She pulls her neck, to have a better view. She can almost count his teeth. There’s two thick red marks around a purple trail, and it even starts to hurt a little bit when she touches it. Usually, she doesn’t mind when he marks her. She enjoys seeing the trace of his hand on her ass after he’d spanked her, fucking her from behind. It reminds her that she belongs to him, not that she needs to be reminded, but it’s nice when he’s gone. But usually, he makes sure not to do it in such an obvious place. “God David! No makeup can hide that!”

Amazing how the atmosphere can change in a few seconds.

“Oh, come on, Gillian! This is ridiculous. We’re together, everybody knows. We have an occasion to tell them. Together!”

“With a hickey?” she screams. “How old are you? Twelve? Jesus, David! I thought we had talked about it enough.”

She’s right. They’ve talked about it a lot in the last three years. At first, he was the one who wanted to hide. He wanted to protect his family, at least that’s what he said, even if she felt like he mostly wanted to protect his ex-wife. But Téa had moved on, their kids grew up, and he gradually became more open to the idea of an official coming out. Finally, she convinced him last year, and they tried. They shared a kiss in public. Two, actually, because he caught her off guard the second time, probably thrilled by the adrenaline of what was happening. For a day, they were free, the weight of the secret off her shoulders. But soon, it was replaced by a heavier weight. A pressure. Unbearable, omnipresent, scary and dangerous. It was too much. She couldn’t do it. So she lied. She denied, and she asked him to lie for her too. Back to square one, except the roles were reversed. She was the one who wanted to hide now. He respected her choice, even if he never understood why she kept playing that game with their fans, publicly teasing, and publicly denying everything. She didn’t really understand either. Maybe there’s a part in her who thinks they deserve the truth, who thinks everything would be so easy if everybody knew, who wants to be free again. But she feels like they’ve gone too deep in their lies. They’ve confused everybody for years, even themselves. They’re lost in their disinformation, and it’s impossible to deny their denials. But he’s right. It’s ridiculous. And unhealthy. They can’t hide forever. Someone will make a mistake at some point. He did it already. He doesn’t care, she knows it. He doesn’t watch his words, his hands, his eyes anymore. He goes with the flow, and she wishes she could do the same. But something blocks her. That pressure, probably. She’d tasted it already, and she didn’t like it. The truth is, if he was anybody else, she would have ran away a long time ago. That’s what she used to do when things got too complicated with men. But she can’t do that with him. He’s the man of her life. There’s no one else. There’s never been anyone else. It’s him. Period. So what now?

“We’re not going public during an X-Files convention, in the middle of Mitch and the old man! And absolutely not because of a hickey!” Her voice breaks in the high.

“Look, I’m sorry about that. I’ll go get a pack of ice for you, and I’m sure your makeup woman will do something. That’s not the first time, right?” She leaves the bathroom, walking quickly and heavily towards the bed. “That’s not really what I had in mind. I just got caught in the moment, you know.” He follows her path, and takes her hand from behind. “Gill, hold on.”

“What?” she asks, turning her face to him.

“You know I gotta leave earlier on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah. Your book event, I know. So what?” She can’t hide her irritation, even if she knows he’s really trying to make it up for her.

“The coffee where I’ll read is downtown. It’s a really nice place, from what I’ve been told. There’s a little restaurant across the street with a beautiful terrace. It’s exposed, full every night, and delicious.”

“Dave…” she interrupts, knowing exactly where he goes. He’s so predictable sometimes, she thinks.

“I’ve booked a table for two. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Maybe not so predictable…

“Is this some kind of ultimatum?” she says, with tears in her eyes.

“No. Just an opportunity. I wish you take it. But if you don’t, nothing will change, and I’ll understand and respect your choice. But if you do, I’ll be here. You’re not doing this alone. We’re doing it together. It’ll be tough, we know it already, but we will be free. You don’t have to answer me now. Just know that I’ll be there, and I hope you join me, okay?” she nods, and squeezes his hand, as he bends down to kiss her lips. “Now I’m gonna get some ice for your neck. Stay here.”

She’s not going anywhere. She can’t move anyway. She feels like she’s on the edge of a cliff, and she has no other choice than to jump. Hopefully, he’ll be down there, catching her in his arms. But what if he’s not? What if she just crashes on the floor and never stands up again? There will be no coming back this time. “I see Gillian, I kiss her hello, she’s a friend” worked once. “I see Gillian, we have a candlelight romantic dinner together, she’s a friend” won’t. She doesn’t have to decide now, he’d told her. But her decision is made already. It was made a long time ago. Funny that she’d brought this black dress, she thinks…


End file.
